


The Shimmering Wings of the Angel of the Victorious People

by NightHeartBattles



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightHeartBattles/pseuds/NightHeartBattles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo is a troubled kid. He is an orphan, his sister had been killed, and to top it off, he is physically disabled in one leg and one arm. Oh yeah, and he's mute.</p><p>Nico leads a hard life. He lives in the school boarding house, and is constantly teased for his intelligence and musical ability, not to mention his disabilities. But they don't understand what he went through to gain the talents he has. Unable to walk for months after the accident, Nico used his time to learn. He is now fluent in six different languages, and can play over four instruments pretty much perfectly. Nico hates it when others tease him, and he even hates it when they congratulate him. Because if it wasn't for the accident, it never would have happened. If it wasn't for his sister's and mother's death, the accident may never have occurred. If his dad hadn't died, his sister and mother may never have been hit my that truck.<br/>But if his dad hadn't died... Nico wouldn't have just met the two people that he may actually learn to trust. If his family hadn't died... Nico didn't know where, or even WHO, he'd be know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meggie Moo Boswell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Meggie+Moo+Boswell).



> I began this story sometime near the end of 2012. I'd been bullied at school for the past four years (2009-2012), but on that day, this one girl took it too far. 
> 
> Me and three others had made a band. Me and SB sang, AS played guitar, and JJ played piano. We used recorded drums. We invited another friend, AC, to be backup pianist, but this other girl TM, stole her place. As a result of that, we compromised, and TM would only play in one song.  
> We were rehearsing what we were going to say to open our first gig - a performance at a school assembly. TM decided she wasn't happy with us. She yelled at me, then decided it'd be a great idea to try and beat me up. She didn't do much, but gods it was terrifying. I don't know if it's possible to explain how I felt when my so-called 'friend' (who SB and I secretly hated, but put up with for JJ and AS) started charging me down. I had a couple of bruises, on on my stomach, a couple on my shins, and on on my arm where she grabbed me, but those faded. It's actually really hard to re-tell the story of what happened, because all I can think about was her sitting down at one point, and the next gripping my arm and punching me in the stomach. The fear was indescribable. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone exactly how I felt, because, to be honest, I can't quite make sense of my emotions at that point. To make it worse, she had the nerve to lie about it to everyone, going so far as to tell one of my other friends, CB, who was comforting me as I cried about 30mins after the incident, "don't listen to that bullshit crap." Then, at the end of the day, she demanded i forgive her. I never did.
> 
> Okay, so that's the backstory. About a week later, I began thinking of all those horrid 'what-if?'s. The two I based this story around were, 'what if I'd been alone?' and 'what if it happened on a weekly, or even daily, basis?'
> 
> Despite the sadness at times, this story will have a happy ending, and it can't be all depressing with Percy around, can it? Hope you enjoy.

Nico di Angelo was invisible. He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t constantly bullied either. He wasn’t a loner, but he was often alone. He was a complete introvert, preferring to keep to himself. He began to not talk at all. Instead he would write any answers, or simply shrug, nod, or shake his head.

Nico di Angelo wasn’t always invisible. He used to be popular. But that all changed when he was eleven. There was a car crash between a taxi and a bus on a busy intersection. His sister and mother were the passengers in the car, and they were killed. Nico drew into himself, only talking when talked to. As said earlier, he soon became silent, and was often referred to as ‘the mute.’ Later that year, about five months after his sister was killed, another car accident happened. Nico was in this one. He was only a pedestrian, caught between the car and the tour bus that crashed as both spun out of control as he crossed the previously empty road. Nico was paralyzed from the waist down, having to move around in an electronic wheelchair. His right arm was crushed, and he had to learn to do everything with his left. 

A year passed, and Nico slowly regained use of his legs. He still used crutches, as his left leg was still not quite right, but they were only just in case. While in a wheelchair, Nico spent his free time learning languages and instruments. By the time he was out of the wheelchair, Nico’s English was more fluent, as it was not his first language, his Italian and Greek were more sophisticated, and he could also speak Latin, French and Chinese. Learning instruments was just as hard, Nico had decided. He thought it was much like learning a language and a culture. Once out of his wheelchair, Nico could play the piano, guitar, drums, violin, clarinet, flute and marimba.

Nico wasn’t perfect at any of these instruments, except maybe the piano, or the three new languages, but he was good enough to play good-sounding songs.

Nico, though enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone, often wished for a friend, or at least some kind of small recognition for his accomplishments while disabled. He would go to bed each night and pray to every god in existence, from every religion known to man.

Little did he know that his attempts would prove successful..

 


	2. The Sun'll Come Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico meets two new teens; TG and PJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a girl in my form class at school this year. For a project of hers, she chose to make a music video, using the song 'Fix You' by Coldplay. She emailed their manager and asked if she could use it. They said yes! The video is about a girl who is constantly bullied at school. Eventually, she has enough and attempts suicide by jumping from a wall on the roof of a building. Just after she jumps, the video freezes, and rewinds quickly. It goes right back to the beginning, where the girl is sitting alone in the cafeteria, crying. Another girl approaches her and offers her hand. The aim of this video was to show that one person can be a blinding light in the darkness and despair of another person's life. Congratulations to this friend for winning the prize for this project.

 

**The Sun'll Come Out**

“Nico di Angelo?”

“Present.” A boy sitting next to me answered for me. The teachers were long since used to this; they checked the seats to make sure I really was there before continuing with the roll call.

I sat in silence, playing with the eraser on the end of my pencil, as the teacher checked to make sure no one had ditched class.

“Okay, class,” the teacher began. “This year we will be doing things a little differently in English. We will be studying different languages and cultures, all to learn a little more about our own. How many of you here do not have English as your first language?”

I raised my hand. English wasn’t even my second language - it was my third. I was one of four to raise their hands. The other three were Asian children I’d grown to like. They were quiet, like me, but I guessed that was because their English wasn’t very good. They preferred to listen like I used to.

“And does anyone here know another language that is not their first language or English?”

I was the only one to raise my hand. Damn.

“Mr di Angelo, what language do you know?”

I wrote down my answer on a piece of paper and got the boy sitting next to me to read it out.

“He knows 6 different languages, including English.”

My class looked shocked, but I ignored them, writing down the answer to the most likely question I’d be asked next.

“What languages?”

“He’s fluent in English, Italian and Greek, and also knows Latin, French and Welsh.”

“Wow. Mr di Angelo, would you be able to give a demonstration of each one?”

I nodded, before taking a deep breath and saying, “Salve, grata Anglorum classis.  Ho assolutamente disprezzo lezione di inglese, perché odio l'insegnante. Je déteste les gens en général, en particulier les intimidateurs. Fi 'n sylweddol dymuno oeddwn yn gartref ar hyn o bryd. Το σπίτι είναι όπου ένιωθα πιο άνετα, αλλά δεν έχω ένα σπίτι τώρα (To spíti eínai ópou énio̱tha pio áneta , allá den écho̱ éna spíti tó̱ra).Thank you, and goodbye.”

Yes, I did say the last part in English. I never was fluent in English, and since I’ve gone mostly mute, most of the kids at school think it’s because I can’t speak any English. The opposite is true - I’m probably more informed about the English language than most of them, what with all their texting and IM’ing and chatting online.

The teacher looked shocked, but she didn’t know what I’d said. For that, I was glad. People were staring at me strangely, almost in awe, I think. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable, and I squirmed in my seat, putting my head down.

Thankfully, the teacher seemed to realise this, as she cleared her throat to get the students’ attention, and continued with the lesson.

“As I said, for English you will be studying a particular culture you have interest in, and you will create a presentation that you will present at the end of this section. Each section is approximately nine weeks long, so I suggest you start working as soon as possible. Get out your laptops, and get to work!”

I pulled my laptop from my bag and opened Microsoft Word. I sat still, thinking, my mind in turmoil. I’d never been one for projects. Well, essays, static images and posters were okay, but speeches and presentations were the worst. Mostly because I had to talk. I’d taken to doing my speeches in Italian, and giving the teacher the English transcript. Of course, the original was in Italian, but whatever. It may have been smarter to write it in English and just translate it as I spoke, but I found it easier to write in my home language.

I knew I wanted to do something based on my old life, the life I led as a Greco-Italian, but I just wasn’t sure what to do. While my classmates furiously researched and typed, I stared blankly out the window, waiting for the class to end.

* * *

 

I walked home alone, as usual. I kept my mind blank of thoughts as I dawdled down the street to the Goode High Boarding House. It was only a five minute walk, but I was determined to take as long as possible, just to put off returning to my dorm. I’d do anything if it meant I never had to go back their again. To put it bluntly, it sucked. The matrons were hardly ever there, and bullying was rampant throughout every dorm. In my dorm, I was the victim. I’d walk in, and it’d start. Luckily, it was usually just verbal bullying. They’d occasionally kick me in the back, or punch me in the stomach, but never anything too bad. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was _really_ beaten up. Scratch that, I knew exactly what to do. Steal girls’ makeup to cover the bruises, use my hidden just-in-case first-aid kit, and keep my head down as usual. Simple as that. If anyone asked, I’d shrug, like usual. It’s not like I could verbally answer anyway. Being mute made it so much easier to lie to people. I’d gotten pretty good at it. 

* * *

I walked into my dorm room and was met with a surprise. Ten sixteen- and seventeen-year-old boys were blocking my path. I glared at them, but they just laughed.

“Aww, is the little baby boy going to kill us by looking at us? How funny!” I didn’t see who’d spoken, but I could hear that it came from somewhere at the back of the group.

I continued to glare.

“Well boys,” said the boy at the front, right in the middle, “I think we should give him a lesson on why you shouldn’t outshine our brothers!”

I recognized them. They were the older brothers of ten of the boys in my class. Obviously they weren’t happy at my wide range of languages. My eyes widened as they charged toward me. I won’t deny it - I was terrified. I knew what was going to happen next, so I squeezed my eyes shut tight and waited for the first blow. I was thrown backwards by a rough kick to the stomach, and protectively covered myself with my right arm, groaning in pain. One of the boys walked over to me and stamped down hard on my left forearm. _Great_ , I thought. Now I can’t use either arm. I lay in silence as they continued to beat me, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. I was slowly losing consciousness. I wasn’t quite out of it though, as I heard the leader say, “Back off boys. He’s learnt his lesson.”

I subconsciously let out a sigh of relief. Huh, I hadn’t realised I was holding it in the first place. I gasped as the leader walked over and kicked me - hard- in the side of the head. I blacked out almost immediately, but I still heard him say, “So much for Nico di Angelo, Italian Angel.”

* * *

 I woke up around 9:00pm. I hurt everywhere, but I forced myself to my feet and slowly wandered over to my bed and carefully yanked my pajamas on, yelping in pain as I knocked my left arm against the headboard of my bed. I closed my eyes and mentally scolded myself for making a sound. I crept into the bathroom and slid away a panel on the wall. Behind the panel was a small space. I reached into the gap and pulled out a small first-aid bag. I rummaged around in the bag until I found what I was looking for. I pulled out two bandages and a small stick of wood. I also pulled out a lightwood cast-like frame. I wrapped the first bandage, a smaller one, around my arm first, and not without difficulty. I eventually managed. I slipped the wooden frame over my arm before doing the second bandage. There. Hopefully it would hold until I could convincingly lie about what happened to the school nurses. I knew I’d have to be careful. For once, I was glad I’d been doing physio for my right arm. I hoped I’d be able to write for a couple of days before the muscles in my hand screwed up again. I laid down on top of my bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

 

I woke up before any of the other guys in my dorm. I rushed into the bathroom, threw on some clean clothes and sneaked out of the dorm rooms. I tiptoed into one of the girls’ rooms and stole a make-up bag. I silently raced into a private bathroom and opened a small compact container. I used a brush and carefully covered up my bruises, cuts and black eye. I grinned a little at a job well done (you couldn’t even tell I was wearing make-up), but winced because it hurt. I snuck the bag back into the girls’ room without them waking up, then ran as quietly as I could down to the dining hall.

As usual, I sat alone. I had already finished eating when the first boarders walked in. I quickly cleaned my plate and raced back into my dorm room. In the bathroom, I was brushing my teeth when one of the guys from the night before walked in. He lifted me by the collar and grinned manically.

“You tell anyone what happened, and I’ll gut you like a fish, you understand?” he growled.

I was going to make a clever response about how fish don’t have hands, and therefore can’t gut anything, but decided it would be smarter to stay silent. I nodded, not saying a word, and the guy dropped me to the ground. I did the smart thing: I ran.

* * *

 

I sprinted as fast as I could out of the boarding house. A five-minute walk turned into a two-minute dash. As soon as I arrived at the school, I slowed down a little, but was still running as I skidded towards my locker. I quickly turned the dial and yanked my locker door open. I was glad I’d already memorised my timetable - even after only a day. I knew exactly which books I needed, and I placed them in my bag before re-locking my locker. Before briskly walking to my first class, I stopped by at the school office to collect one half of a pair of crutches. I didn’t need them continuously, but after the beating I’d taken the night before, my leg was hurting like Hades. However, I knew I wouldn’t be able to use two, what with my broken arm, so I only asked for one.

* * *

 

I was sitting in my chair silently, reading a new book (written in Italian) when two kids I’d never seen before walked in to the room. I glanced up at them before looking back at my book.

As I continued to read, I watched the two teenagers out of the corner of my eye. They looked to be about fourteen, so I guessed they’d be in my year. Yeah, I skipped a couple of grades, but no one seemed to care about the freaky-genius, goth, depressed mute. Yeah, I’d been called all those things. So I expected the pair to just ignore me completely. Of course, I should have remembered to always expect the unexpected.

“Hey, kid,” the boy called to me. I looked up to glare at him, but my stare immediately faltered. Those eyes... I knew I recognised them.

“How old are you?” the girl asked. I struggled to suppress a gasp. I recognised her eyes as well. I scribbled my answer on a scrap piece of paper and held it up to them.

Twelve.

“Oh. Are you super smart or something?” the boy asked. I shrugged.

“Of course he is, Kelp Head! He wouldn’t be in here if he wasn’t!” the girl exclaimed. I watched, amused, as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m Thalia, bye the way,” she said to me, “and Kelp Head over here is Perseus.”

I tried hard not to smile.

“It’s Percy,” the boy said, glaring at Thalia.

I smirked.

“What’s your name?” Percy asked.

I scribbled down another answer on the same piece of paper: Nico di Angelo.

Percy gasped.

“The Angel of the Victorious People,” he whispered.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I frowned and silently asked him, ‘How did you know?’

He swallowed before saying two words that had me on the brink of tears: “Your sister.”

It was then that it clicked. I felt a surge of anger boil up inside me. I stared Percy in the eye and stood.

“Get a new tour bus driver.” My eyes widened, as did Percy and Thalia’s. I couldn’t believe it. I’d actually just talked. Percy and Thalia glanced at each other in confusion before Percy seemed to understand what I meant. He took in my crutches, my seemingly destroyed right arm, my depressed look, and my refusal to talk.

He turned to Thalia and whispered, “The accidents.” I knew he’d figured it out, and Thalia seemed to understand as she looked at me and whispered, “You?”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill. I sat back down with a thud and placed my head in my hands. I tried my absolute hardest not to cry in front of these new students, but after a moment, I gave up. I let the tears well over and trickle down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away.

I heard Thalia and Percy walk over to me, and felt Percy sit down beside me. I felt Thalia’s hand on my shoulder. If anything, that made me cry even harder.

“Don’t bother with him,” I heard a voice say. “He’s a weak little crybaby _mute_.” I glanced up to see the younger brother of the leader of the gang that beat me up. Standing behind him _was_ the leader of the gang. I involuntarily flinched away from the pair. Both boys smirked, and the elder one mouthed, ‘Remember our little deal.’ I gulped nervously and gave a short nod, which neither Thalia nor Percy seemed to notice. I half wished they had, but they were too busy glaring at the pair. 

* * *

 I sat through the class in silence once again, reverting back to my usual mute character. As usual, I didn’t really pay attention to what the teacher was saying. She was going on and on about how important it was to learn about and understand a different culture. I knew I should have been listening, but really, I couldn’t care less about what she was saying. After about five minutes, I felt someone staring at me. I looked to my right to see Percy studying me curiously. I frowned at him and he mouthed ‘Talk to you later.’ I gave a short nod, then continued fiddling with the rope on my sweatshirt. The whole time I was careful not to let the sleeves roll up. I didn’t want anyone to see my makeshift cast. _That_ would have been hard to explain. I occasionally felt Percy’s gaze on me, and it was quite disturbing.

The day, thankfully, passed without anyone noticing my cast. The makeup over my bruises stayed, and no one noticed that either. I should have known that at least one person would have figured it out.

* * *

 

I was walking back from the office after depositing the walking-stick-like thing I’d borrowed when someone yanked on my arm. I subconsciously flinched and closed my eyes, thinking it was one of the boys from the night before. I was highly relieved when I heard a familiar, and more importantly, friendly, voice.

“You didn’t really expect no one to notice, did you?”

I opened my eyes to see Percy half-glaring at me, half watching my reactions with concern.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” I stuttered, surprising myself again by talking.

Percy rolled his hardened eyes, and suddenly yanked my sleeve up. I gasped, my heart pounding in fear.

“What is this?” he growled, gesturing to my wooden cast.

“I-I... nothing.” I looked down at my feet.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing,” Percy scolded. “I saw your reaction to that older kid this morning, and I saw how you flinched at every loud noise and every time someone brushed past you. And most importantly...”

He carefully pushed my hood off my head and brushed my fringe out of my eyes. I flinched involuntarily at the touch.

I knew what he was talking about. I knew I hadn’t put enough makeup on, but I had hoped that by keeping my hood up and my head down, no one would notice my purple black eye.

“I saw that,” he said off-handedly, referring to my flinch.

“What happened?” Percy asked softly. I looked up to see him watching me with concern. I wished he wouldn’t. However nice it was to know that someone knew, that someone knew and _cared_ , I didn’t think I could handle the beating I’d if any of _them_ found out I’d told. So I did the safe thing.

“I... I can’t tell you,” I whispered.

“Did they threaten you?” Percy’s eyes hardened again.

I looked away.

“Did they threaten you?” Percy demanded.

I swallowed before nodding nervously.

“That’s it,” Percy growled. “You are not going back to the boarding house. No way in Hades.”

“I... I have to,” I told him. “I can handle it.”

“No you can’t,” Percy disagreed. “You are _not_ going back there.”

“I have to,” I pressed. “I... I’m not _allowed_ to leave. That’s the rules.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to have a parent’s permission...”

“And you’re an orphan,” Percy guessed.

I nodded sadly. It was true. I had no one. The only reason I was allowed to continue attending the school was that I was there on full scholarship anyway - everything was paid for me by the school.

“Come on. If you have to go back to the boarding house, I’m going with you till you go to bed.”

Percy grabbed my good arm and dragged me away.

“And you’re going to have to tell someone about that arm, even if you lie about how it happened.”

I nodded. I tried not to show it, but a feeling was bubbling up inside me at the thought that someone actually _cared_ if I was hurt, a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the little speech Nico gives is incorrect; I got the info from Google translate. Apart from the French, I don't know any of the languages (the french was translated by me, but I'm only 13, so I may have gotten a couple of things wrong).


End file.
